A Real-Life Superhero (Ain't What You Read in the Comics)
by krista12
Summary: Richie/Gear's take on being a superhero. Introspective ficlet. Slight angst.


A Real-Life Superhero (Ain't What You Read in the Comics) - Richie/Gear's take on being a superhero. Introspective ficlet. Slightly dark.

Looking back, Richie sees how he stumbled upon his powers, unknowingly exposing himself to the Bang Baby gas when he helped Virgil home. He helped Virg home, spent a lot of the next day with him, and was at the scene itself; it makes sense that he would have been exposed to the gas. That said, he hadn't expected to be affected by it, since he couldn't see the gas when he finally found Virgil passed out behind a dumpster. He's lucky the cops didn't find him instead.

But Richie did gain powers... even if they weren't as obvious or showy as Virgil's. No, he got stuck with a super brain that wouldn't _shut up_. He'll admit; it's not all that bad. He knew the baddies were finding ways around Static's powers, knew that Static had weaknesses that needed to be covered.

Knew he himself was powerless. _Weak._

But suddenly he had the means to help more than before. He could invent, provide. He could protect. V might not admit it (he and Richie both had egos the size of blimps), but he didn't always win fights, didn't always walk away unharmed. Electromagnetism and super geniusness did not, in fact, come with healing powers. Unfortunately.

So being able to help was... good. It was a good feeling, being the smartest person in the room, able to anticipate counter-movements, to take apart some of the most advanced tech without any sort of guide.

And backpack, of course, was a major source of help and pride. So Richie had at least six thought streams going through his head at once (the price of being a genius), but if he devoted one to superhero-related issues every moment he was awake, no one needed to know.

(Virgil knew anyway.)

Richie- _Gear_ \- was ecstatic to help his best pal. Frankly, he'd been trying from Day 1, but he just wasn't capable of being much more than a nuisance, though he tried. Out in the field, his power had been limited, so he developed the ShockBoxes, the zap caps, tracers, anything and everything in his power to help his best friend get through the superhero fights intact. He would _not_ be attending Virgil's funeral in the next several decades, thank you very much, not if he could help it.

So he could help then-and now. He didn't have super strength or the ability to fly or any number of otherwise useful abilities for fighting, so he made those things: he made backpack and a reinforced exoskeleton for heavy lifting; he made rocket boots to fly. He may not have special powers except his brain, but he would _use_ his brain.

Sometimes it was too much, all the information vying for attention in his head. His thoughts rarely quieted and school was a struggle because he could out-think just about anyone in that building, including the teachers with phD's.

It helped to have Virg. He was smart too-not super smart, but able to hold a decent conversation regarding electronics and physics. Besides, V often offered off-the-wall ideas Richie's newly-analytical mind might not have otherwise considered (that said, science fiction still remained a source of entertainment, ideas, and psychology of villains, go figure). But Virgil was patient, let him babble about whatever ideas were floating around in his head. Even if he didn't understand, he made an effort to pay attention and ask questions, to help Richie feel at ease rather than discomfited with his intellect.

And being Gear was nice. It felt nice to be able to help people and to protect V's butt from his many enemies (and himself to be honest; V did have some poor habits like stubbornness). He knew going in what would be involved in superheroing, knew from Virgil's bruises, his battles, listening with baited breath through the ShockBoxes for Static to confirm he was okay. He and Virg used to read all these comics like Plantman. They always made being a superhero seem easy. What the comics don't convey is the week-long wait for the bruised rib to heal enough that Sharon and Mr. Hawkins stop giving you concerned looks. Or the averted eyes as you lie through your teeth yet again about where you were or what you were doing. Or your parents questioning you if you were on drugs, concern showing through and you _can't_ tell them, and it hurts.

But when you have people like Hostreak or Ebon on the streets and a police force not equipped to handle it, how can you stand by and do nothing? All it takes for evil to rule is for good men to stand by and do nothing; Richie has the power to diminish evil directly, physically, so there was never a question to be asked, even when he lacked these powers. He figures out his own superhero getup and gets going, backpack on his back and rocket skates at the ready.

He only decides on the name later: _Gear_. Fitting. Another cog in the machine of this city, another piece to the chess match that is this delicate balance between good and evil. Sometimes it seems hopeless, sometimes his brain directs him to a hundred ways he could die, could fail his friends, his family, even Virgil. Sometimes when the bang babies break back out of prison, he wonders why bother; even the big leagues like Batman and Superman deal with the same baddies over and over, and it can all just seem so pointless, never making any progress.

And for every bruise, every lie, every averted eye, he weights them against Virgil's smiling face as he cracks another electricity joke, the police sending them grateful smiles, the faces of those they've saved and those they've failed. Being a superhero isn't all that great sometimes, but when it gets down to it, he can't imagine stopping. Guesses it's a lifelong deal. It's dangerous and terrifying, but also invigorating and incredible. It's not like in the comics; it's so much worse, but it's still worth every second, even if it kills him.


End file.
